Next Time Use Paint by Number
by deathbysharpie
Summary: Just a molar-wrenching cavity-inducing fluffball of fluff about Romano being jealous that N. Italy can paint and he can't, because of course that means Spain likes his brother better. not.


So, this is kind of sort of my Thanksgiving present, except that it's like three days late. It's just a bit of fluff that I thought I'd write to tide all you followers of my AU Spamano story over until the next chapter, which is coming soon, yo prometo. It's about halfway done. Enjoy!

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"Dammit!" Romano cursed; his fingers curling too tightly around the paintbrush made his fist tremble and cerulean paint dribbled down his wrist.

Deep lines creased his sun-kissed face in a signature scowl as he stared at the splotchy looking paper. He had been attempting to paint the intriguing palette of early evening colors: blue and yellow fading into eachother from the horizon line. It was quite a breathtaking sight from behind Spain's house, the fiery celestial body yawning mightily over the vast expanses of vineyards.

It was very rare that Romano would be artistically inspired. And, the impulsive being that he was, he had decided to express it. After all, with the Renaissance so highly regarded he had to contribute his part.

And then he remembered why he let his little brother do all the painting and reap all the benefits. He sucked. Romano threw his brush at the ground angrily, letting out a grunt of frustration and glaring at the fiery beast that seemed to taunt him in its majestic setting.

He plopped down on the soft grass around which he had set up the easel, crossing his legs and resting his head in his hands. He let out a soft sigh and watched the serene and beautiful scene before him tick away second by second, and felt frustration pull at his brow again; he hated the feeling of defeat.

"You shouldn't leave a wet paintbrush on the ground, Romano, it will dry and the grass will stick to it." called a soft but chiding voice from behind the seated nation, startling him as he whipped his head around to see Spain.

Spain stood relaxed, his hands in his pockets, and outlined slightly by the fading day glow. His eyes traveled from Romano with a friendly smile to the paper clipped to the easel.

Romano flushed. He had not wanted Spain to see his…handiwork, until he was sure it was presentable enough for the highly artistically influenced country. He knew that at the moment, it looked like an animal without opposable thumbs had smeared the paint on the paper.

"I didn't know you liked to paint, Romano. You had never expressed interest in it before."

"Yeah, well, you don't know a lot of things about me." Romano mumbled, twisting back around to stare at the grass.

Spain walked towards him silently, bending over to pick up the paintbrush, and held it out to Romano, who snatched it away half-heartedly. He stalked toward the canvas, biting his lip as he considered what he could do with the big splotch of blue on his paper, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. He had intended for the yellow and blue to fade together softly, like he'd seen in so many paintings, and yet when they mixed on the paper a muddy green color was created, as opposed to the soft peachy-yellow that the sky emitted. Romano felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment; he could feel Spain's eyes on his back, watching carefully as the younger struggled to decide what to do next.

A soft chuckle resonated from closer behind him than he'd thought, and he whipped around to find Spain a few feet closer, his eyes holding an odd glint.

"Did you try water?" he asked matter-of-factly, his arms crossed lightly across his chest, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows so that the soft, tanned skin of his arms glowed from the fading afternoon light.

"…ex-excuse me?" Romano stammered, his eyes snapping up from Spain's toned arms to his face. Intimidating.

"Did you try adding water to the paint? Or the paper?" Spain replied softly, helpfully as opposed to critically.

Romano stared blankly. Wait…right, they were watercolors, weren't they…_oops. _

"Oh...o-of course I was going to! I was getting to that!" Romano shot back, but his tone had less bite in it than before.

He reached his hand hesitantly forward to dip his brush in a cup of water set in the grass, watching with slight interest as the blue pigment quickly diffused in the clear water, turning the whole cup instantly blue. He brought his paintbrush back up and let the tip hover over the paper, no more than a centimeter away, suspended, frozen, in the air. He bit his lip. What should he do next? Surely if he just dabbed it on it would ruin the whole picture.

He had momentarily forgotten that Spain was behind him, waiting as he contemplated what to do next, until the aforementioned nation closed the gap between them, putting his slightly larger hand around Romano's hand holding the paintbrush and guiding it towards the paper. Romano jumped slightly, his cheeks coloring at their proximity, briefly squeezing his eyes shut before jerking back.

"Wh-what are you doing, bastard?" he muttered halfheartedly, aiming a glare at the too-close-to-be-comfortable Spaniard behind him.

"I'm helping!" he chuckled in response, his thumb stroking ever-so-subtly over Romano's knuckles, making him fight back a shudder.

Romano huffed but said nothing; allowing his hand to be guided and watching respectfully, a slightly impressed look on his face at the now blended colors. It looked nice. After some time, Spain slowly released his hand, and Romano tried not to show the disappointment on his face at the loss of proximity as the other stepped back to admire their handiwork.

"It looks good. But I didn't do it, you did." Romano said, his snippy tone returning. "I just can't make art, so I'm just not as good as-"

Romano cut himself off, crossing his arms stubbornly. He wasn't in the best mood.

"_¿Qué? _What are you talking about, Romano?" Spain asked to Romano's turned back, placing a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing…never mind, it doesn't even matter…" Romano said curtly, fighting back that annoying lump in his throat and shrugging the hand off of his shoulder.

"Romano…are you saying you're not as good as Italy? Is that why you're _enojado, _mm?" Spain asked, a slight smile evident in his voice, even though Romano was turned around.

"N-no!" he shot back, hunching his shoulders and refusing to look at the Spaniard. "W-well maybe…but why do you care? Maybe I am!"

"I'm just wondering why, Romano. You never seemed to even care about the arts before, in fact, you said they bored you." Spain said with a tone of criticism, and Romano could just picture one of those dark eyebrows going up.

There was a pregnant silence in which Romano was frozen stiff, a mental battle taking place on whether or not he should speak his mind. He opened his mouth before the outcome could be resolved, however.

"Ita-chan is so good at art and painting, it's just one reason you like him better than me…" Romano said very quietly, his eyes downcast and his back turned harshly to the other nation.

He didn't wait for a reaction, or didn't care, just staying hunched over as the last few beams of afternoon light slipped behind the hillside. He heard laughter bubbling up from behind him and cringed, anger boiling up inside him.

"It's not funny, you jerk, do you even-" Romano cut off his sentence with a choking sound as he felt strong arms wrap around his waist and Spain's chest press to his back.

"Hh-why…d-" he tried to start again, but found himself blushing madly when Spain placed his chin on Romano's shoulder and whispered in his ear.

"I find it very cute that you are jealous for me, _querído. Muy lindo._" He said softly, giving Romano's torso a gentle squeeze before continuing. "But you should know that it's you I love."

The way Spain's voice dropped down to a lower tone in the last part of his sentence made Romano's heart jump, and all he could to in response was slide his hands down to rest on Spain's.

"I also think your cheeks are very cute. They look like _tomates!_" he continued, earning a glare from Romano when he pressed a kiss to one of them.

"Spaaaain…" he muttered as the other placed butterfly kisses on his jaw, and then his neck.

"_Spaaain…"_ Romano said a bit louder, and Spain smiled as placed a lingering kiss to his neck.

"Spain!" he finally snapped, making the other look up in surprise.

"What is it, Romano?"

"You got paint on my shirt, you jerk!"

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ta-da, flufftastic. Review? (-:

_enojado= _angry_  
_

_querído=_ darling

_Muy lindo=_ very cute


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